Some Enchanted Evening
by otherhawk
Summary: A family party. How bad can it get? Rusty/Livingston and Danny.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with O11. And apparently I don't own any of the stories I've written - InSilva says they're hers, all hers, mwahahahaha. **

**A/N: Last seasonal story of 2010! And it's for you, mate. Hope you like it and Happy New Year!  
**

* * *

Livingston stared at the door uncertainly. Oh, he really wasn't sure that this was his best plan. There had to be easier ways of dealing with this. More straightforward ways, anyway. Even if he didn't fancy the simple, unvarnished truth, he could always change his name and move to Milwaukee. Actually, that would probably involve knocking on Rusty and Danny's door at some point too. Sooner or later everything seemed to.

It wasn't like they'd laugh. At least, he didn't think they'd laugh. Oh, God, suppose they did laugh? It wasn't a laughing matter!

No. What he had to do here was remember last year. The looks. The sniggers. The _pity. _Nothing could be more humiliating than that. Compared to last year, what was asking a friend a somewhat – alright, _very _– embarrassing favour? The very _worst _that could happen would be that he'd say no.

Except...except Rusty didn't really say no to favours, did he? Not that he was a pushover – in fact the very thought made Livingston giggle – but if someone Rusty cared about asked for help, it was kind of impossible to imagine him saying no.

And wasn't that a bit of a quandary? Because Rusty _did _care about him and here he was asking for help, or maybe asking for help, and maybe that was sort of like entrapment? He didn't want Rusty to do anything that made him uncomfortable after all...not that there was really much that made Rusty uncomfortable. Certainly nothing he'd discovered. Was there a gene for embarrassment, he wondered? Could you just be born without it?

Maybe he should just talk around the subject and throw out hints so that Rusty could wilfully ignore him if necessary.

Maybe he should man up and go ask and make it absolutely clear that Rusty could say no and that would be perfectly fine.

"Okay," he said aloud, rapping smartly on the door. "I can do this."

"Glad to hear it," Danny said encouragingly from behind him.

Livingston leapt about a foot in the air. "Arrgh!"

"Sorry," Danny said, and if the smile had been just a little less wide, Livingston might even have believed he meant it.

"How long have you been there?" he asked accusingly.

Danny shrugged. "A few minutes."

"You could have said something," he muttered sullenly.

"I did," Danny said, and this time the apology sounded more sincere. "You seemed a million miles away."

"Yeah..." he sighed as the problem came rushing back.

"Oh, we're not in by the way," Danny added, walking past him to open the door. He looked back at Livingston and smiled. "You want to come in and tell me just what you were getting yourself geared up for?"

"It was actually Rusty I was looking for," Livingston explained, following him inside and shrugging his coat off.

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully. "Didn't think seeing Rusty _usually _required a pep talk. I mean, he's frightening but he's not _that _frightening. Drink?"

Livingston smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks," he said, accepting the glass a moment later. "Yeah, it's..uh...sort of awkward. And personal."

Danny blinked and Livingston hastened to reassure him.

"Oh, it's nothing _bad. _Well, not bad bad. Nothing to worry about. I sort of need a favour...well I was hoping he could do me a favour. If he wants."

Now Danny was looking intrigued. "What sort of favour? Anything I can help with?"

Livingston's brain ground to a halt. "No!" he said involuntarily and a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean not that you _couldn't_...I'm sure you're perfectly _capable_...it's just that it would be..." He thought for a moment. "Weird," he said at last. "Deeply, epically weird."

"Huh..." Danny said thoughtfully with just a hint of a frown. "Trying to figure out if I should be offended or not."

"Not," Livingston said, horrified. "Oh, Danny, of course not." He caught sight of the expression on Danny's face and sighed. Right. He was being made fun of. Of course.

"Sorry," Danny said, the apology immediate and genuine.

"It's fine," he said, and it _was. _Because a lot of people had made fun of him his whole life, but unlike all those other times, when Danny did it, it didn't mean Danny liked or respected him any less. Teasing was different from a friend. But right now, at this time of year, he was maybe a little more sensitive than usual.

Danny was still looking at him. "Livingston? You know if you're in trouble you don't even need to ask. Whatever you need."

He smiled. "I'm not in trouble, Danny," he said, and really, thinking about it, there was no reason for him _not _to tell Danny. Of course he trusted Danny; the alternative was unthinkable. And it wasn't like he didn't know that when he told Rusty Danny would get to know about it too. That was the way they worked and this wasn't anywhere near something he'd ask Rusty to hide from Danny.

"Okay," he said, still a little nervous. "Promise not to laugh?"

Danny nodded solemnly.

"Every year my parents throw this Christmas party on the 22nd," he explained. "They hire out the Grand Ballroom at the Four Seasons in Boston and invite everyone they can think of and play a massive game of one-upmanship. Father is a neurosurgeon and Mother is an Anthropology Professor at Harvard. And I've got two brothers. Lawrence is a Consultant Thorassic Surgeon at John Hopkins and Leyland is one of the chief engineers for JPL." He smiled at Danny's blank look. "Jet Propulsion Laboratories. NASA."

Danny was looking at him thoughtfully. "Lot to compete with."

Livingston nodded. "And I hate competitions. They make me nervous."

"Must be difficult for you to talk about your job," Danny added slowly.

Almost impossible. And he said that he was in computers, said that he freelanced for the government and private industry, but it wasn't glamorous and last year his family had made it quite clear that he didn't measure up.

He nodded again. "And Lawrence and Leyland are both married to women who are just as glamorous and successful as themselves. I was single last year and..." And it had been awful. The snide comments, the overt pity, the oh-so-funny-jokes...by the end of the evening he'd felt about two inches tall. "If I just had someone there, someone who was on my side."

Danny was nodding understandingly. "You need a fake boyfriend."

"I need a fake boyfriend," he agreed thankfully, grateful that Danny had said it first. Because Danny suggested it and it sounded insane-but-reasonable, same as everything else Danny suggested. When _he'd _been thinking about it the very idea had just seemed pathetic.

Danny smiled. "Rusty will be happy to."

He blinked. Because, yes, he supposed he'd normally expect that Danny could speak for both of them, but in this instance... "Did you just pimp out your partner?" he asked incredulously.

"Huh." Danny pursed his lips. "Guess I did."

He shook his head, amused. "You can come too. If you like."

"Come to the party that you've just told me is going to be hell?" Danny grinned. "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

22nd December

* * *

Livingston looked up at the entrance of the Four Seasons grimly and wondered if it was too late to change his mind. Even with Rusty at his side and Danny a half-step behind, he was feeling remarkably inadequate. It was more than a little tempting to just turn round and walk in the opposite direction. As he remembered there was a pretty good cocktail bar about a half mile away. Only trouble with _that _was he'd wind up spending the entire next year fielding phone calls from his parents and extended family, demanding to know why he hadn't been there.

"Can we get this over with?" he asked unhappily.

"'s going to be fine," Rusty said. That wasn't the first reassuring comment Rusty had offered him since Livingston and Danny had explained what he'd been drafted into. He'd started by telling Livingston about a dozen times that, no, he really _didn't _mind volunteering for this. In fact, all he'd asked was whether Livingston wanted his family charmed or cut down to size.

It had been kind of tempting. Just a little. Not that he ever _would _but...He knew perfectly well that they were completely capable of staying within the bounds of proprietary and being every bit as objectionable and insulting as could be imagined. Larry O'Dell and Matthew Brigstock sprang to mind. Not that that had exactly been the sort of social convention that his parents would recognise mind you.

Still just the offer, just the reminder that they didn't _like _him being insulted, not by anyone, that was enough. After all, he'd still have to deal with his family no matter what. The real reassurance was having someone else there.

Mom and Dad were waiting for them in the hotel lobby. They smiled warmly when they saw him. "Livingston! It's lovely to see you. Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, smiling back, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Careful," she warned, stepping back. "I've just put my make-up on and I can't be smudged."

He flushed. "Right. Sorry." He turned to his Dad. "Hello, Father," he said and he accepted the handshake formally.

"Livingston. You're looking well. How's work?"

Practically three seconds. That might just be a new record and he felt his left eye start to twitch. "Oh, fine," he muttered. "Just the usual." Last month he'd remotely switched out the hidden camera footage at the LaGranda Diamond Emporioum, so that in spite of all their efforts, when they played back the tapes, all they got was the opening to the Pink Panther movie. Over and over again. Three weeks worth. "Same old, same old."

Dad sighed heavily. "You know your brother tells me there's an excellent opportunity at JPL for someone with computer experience. And I was talking to this little man at a fundraiser the other week. Bill something. He said that there were jobs in computers in California. Something called Silicon Valley."

"I'm fine, Father," he said reassuringly for the hundredth time.

"So you say now," Dad said sharply. "If you must play with these machines, you need to find yourself a steady career path. This freelancing won't last forever you know."

"Dear, we can discuss this later," Mom said, putting her hand on Dad's arm and Livingston was relieved because he could _feel _the tension at his back and he wasn't so certain how long Rusty and Danny would have kept quiet. "Livingston," Mom went on gently. "I think perhaps some introductions are in order...?"

"Oh, of course," he said embarrassed. "This is Rusty Ryan. My boyfriend. Rusty, these are my parents. And this is Danny Ocean, a friend of ours."

Mom and Dad turned to look for the first time and the disbelief was evident in their faces. "_This _is your boyfriend?" Mom blurted out and immediately bit her tongue.

Oh. A heavy weight seemed to settle in Livingston's chest. His own mother couldn't believe that someone like Rusty would want anything to do with him.

"Delighted to meet you both," Rusty said, his smile wide and bright, proffering his hand to each in turn.

"Charmed," Mom said, and by the looks of her she was. "Rusty, was it? Such an..._unusual _name. Very quaint."

"It's a nickname, ma'am," Rusty said, still smiling, his eyes wide and innocent. "Robert Charles Ryan junior is something of a mouthful."

Mom laughed a little and Livingston did his best not to stare.

Dad was shaking Danny's hand. "Any friend of Livingston's is welcome here. Are you in computers too?"

"I'm afraid not," Danny said smoothly. "I leave the technical stuff to the experts. No, I work for a government agency. I'm an expediter, you might say. That's where I met Livingston – he was doing the clever stuff for us."

"Which agency?" Dad asked politely.

"Oh, we're very small," Danny said with a shrug. "You've probably never heard of us. Our primary interests are in the transportation of information, goods and people, you see."

"Oh." Dad didn't look like he saw at all.

Livingston supposed it was a step up from landscape gardeners or fashion consultants or indoor urban beekeepers, which was Danny's latest cover story de jour.

"So here are your room keys," Mom said brightly, pulling two keys out of her purse. "Livingston, Rusty, you're in room 503. Danny you're in 315." She looked anxiously at Rusty. Not at him, at Rusty. "I got you a double. I hope that's alright."

He'd been wrong. This was shaping up to be far more embarrassing than last year. Did she really think he'd got Rusty here under false pretences? Okay, so technically Rusty _was _here under false pretences...but not _those _false pretences. An entirely different set of false pretences were in operation here.

"That's _wonderful,"_ Rusty said, his eyelashes lowered demurely, and he stole a sideways glance at Livingston. The sort of look that sent a rush of heat to Livingston's cheeks...mostly his cheeks.

This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This was all just an act to get his family to leave him alone.

"Nice meeting you Dr Dell, Professor Dell," Danny said politely.

Rusty's hand crept into his and he was being led towards the elevator. "See you later," he said to his parents, dazedly.

This wasn't real. He wasn't attracted to Rusty in the slightest.

Course he wasn't.

* * *

"Are your parents always like that?" Danny asked in the elevator a moment later.

"Always sure they're right, always suggesting ways I can make myself a better person? Yeah," he said with a sigh. "They drive me crazy."

"Mmm." The frown deepened and Danny was looking as far from happy as could be imagined.

"You were mostly raised by your grandparents though," Rusty remarked quietly.

"Well, yes," he agreed, puzzled. "From when I was two to when I went to high school."

"We met them a few years back," Rusty said to Danny. "While we were staking out the department store. They were nice"

"Oh, yes," Livingston remembered. Grandma and Grandpa had been in town doing some shopping and he'd been taking them round the store when they'd bumped into Rusty and Danny. One of those strange coincidences. They'd all gone for coffee and cakes and even if it had been a little early in his then-relationship with Rusty to consider meeting families, Livingston had been delighted that Grandma and Grandpa had adored Rusty. Actually... "They still ask after you," he commented idly. Then he blinked. "Wait, you were staking out the department store?"

Rusty and Danny exchanged a look. "They had terrible security."

Right. The elevator came to a halt and Danny headed for the door.

"You'll come up when you're ready?" Rusty checked.

"Wouldn't want to intrude on you two lovebirds," Danny answered back with a grin and Livingston couldn't stop spluttering enough to make a coherent objection. "Why don't you come down when you're dressed?"

"Suppose I could come down _before _I'm dressed," Rusty mused. "Might liven things up a little."

"Let's all try and avoid being naked in front of my family," Livingston said hastily.

"That a rule?" Danny asked, sounding surprisingly disappointed.

Oh, he was beginning to see a major flaw in his scheme to avoid embarrassment.

* * *

The hotel room was sumptuous and Livingston watched, amused, as Rusty dropped straight onto the bed with a satisfied sigh.

"I suppose I'm taking the sofa then," he said, shaking his head.

Rusty looked at him. "Why? 's a big bed. Think we can share."

"Well, yes," Livingston flounded. "But this is...and we're not really..."

Rusty smiled. "It's perfectly possible for two men to share a bed and not have sex, Livingston."

"Well, _yes_," he said again. "Actually I've had whole relationships that...but that's not the _point."_

"We've shared a bed before," Rusty added persuasively.

And that _definitely _wasn't the point. Or maybe, really, that was exactly the point. "Yes, but then we were also sharing...uh..."

"Orgasms?" Rusty suggested brightly and Livingston choked.

"No!"

Rusty pouted. "Oh, come on. I _know _you weren't faking."

"No!" he said again, the urge to giggle warring with the horrified.

"You think _I _was faking?" Rusty asked, pouting some more.

"No, I mean _yes_ I mean..." He sighed. "I mean I hate you," he said with feeling.

Grinning, Rusty sat up. "Look, if you want me to be serious for a moment – "

" – don't sprain anything," Livingston muttered.

Rusty ignored him. " - If it would make you more comfortable I'll take the sofa. I've slept plenty worse places, believe me."

Livingston hesitated. "I'm the one who has a problem with it though," he objected. "I can take the sofa."

Rusty opened his mouth to argue some more.

"Why don't we wait and see how we feel tonight?" Livingston suggested. "There's no point in arguing about it now."

"Fair enough," Rusty agreed. "You want to take first shower?"

"Sure thing," he agreed cheerfully.

He'd finished his shower and was just dressing when he heard Rusty give an exclamation from the other room.

"What?" he called anxiously, popping his head round the bathroom door while he fiddled with his cufflinks.

Rusty was bending over a drawer. "Your folks sure pick interesting hotels."

He frowned. "What do you mean..." He trailed off as Rusty turned around, holding up _exactly _what he meant.

"Complimentary handcuffs," Rusty explained.

Well that was just _weird. _"I guess they must have been left by another guest?" he suggested uncertainly.

The grin faded as Livingston stepped out of the bathroom and Livingston bit his lip as Rusty's eyes swept up and down. "You look _good_," Rusty told him, his voice soft.

Livingston blinked quickly. "Oh...I mean, thank you. Do you want to..." He gestured awkwardly at the bathroom behind him.

"Sure," Rusty smiled, abandoning the handcuffs in favour of a suitcarrier and vanishing into the bathroom.

Livingston occupied himself playing with the handcuffs for a few moments and wondered how he was going to get through the evening.

After a moment or two, he switched the TV on instead and watched an inexplicable Star Trek episode on the sci fi channel.

After twenty minutes or so Rusty reappeared. And he looked...

Livingston knew he was staring. He just wasn't so sure he remembered how to stop. Or how to close his mouth. Or how to form coherent sentences.

Rusty in black tie shouldn't be _allowed. _It _had _to be breaking some kind of law.

"What do you think?" Rusty asked. "You said glamorous and successful, right? This dazzling enough?"

Right. Right. Dazzled, not drooling. "It's fine," he said, swallowing hard.

Rusty nodded, apparently reassured.

Oh, this party was going to be _interesting._

* * *

Livingston had had nightmares like this. Well, not _exactly _like this. Actually, this might just be worse. Or not. In his nightmares he tended to find himself naked in a crowd of people, humiliated in front of the people he cared about.

At least he wasn't naked. That was about the best he could say.

The room was packed with people and he didn't know who half of them were though he had no doubt he was connected to them in some way. He'd smiled at a couple of cousins across the room, he'd waved to Mom and Dad, he'd introduced Rusty and Danny to a very elderly uncle who'd told Rusty that short hair was very unattractive on such a beautiful young lady, and it was while Rusty was making his displeasure at Danny's laughter silently clear, that they'd somehow got trapped by Lawrence and Leyland.

They'd looked delighted to see him of course. They always did. And he knew that all the rivalry was just a game as far as they were concerned and that deep down they really did care about him. Teasing was the way they were _supposed _to treat their little brother. It was just that didn't stop him _hating _it.

"So, what do you do, Rusty?" Leyland demanded, leaning in far too close.

"I'm an architect," Rusty said calmly.

"Really?" Lawrence asked, grinning. "Are you the sort of architect who gets to design cathedrals, or are you only trusted with concrete car parks and public conveniences?"

Livingston swallowed his wine and hid his face.

"Honestly, Lawrence," Lydia said with a sharp sigh, well used to her husband's comments.

"I'm just starting out," Rusty said easily. "I've got a project to design a major new hotel complex in Long Island though. It's got a lot of promise."

"Don't let Livingston help whatever you do," Leyland chimed in. "He's hopeless with building things. I remember when he was in high school he had to make this model of town hall for some class project as possible. The thing collapsed in front of his whole class. Apparently you could hear the laughter all through the building." Leyland was laughing now and Lawrence joined in.

"Because you'd taken out the supports!" Livingston said loudly, the old memory hurting all over again. Leyland had been home from grad school and he'd sabotaged the project for no damn reason at all. He'd thought it was _funny._

"That's what you get for not guarding your work, little brother," Leyland said with a shrug. "It's a dog eat dog world."

"Which is just fine for those of us who are human," Rusty commented brightly and Livingston elbowed him hard.

Fortunately Leyland was paying them no mind. He was listening to Lawrence.

"I guess this means that Livingston really is gay after all," Lawrence remarked. "We were never quite sure, you know. He never dated all the way through high school. We never saw him even _talking _to a girl. And then when he said he was gay, well." He smiled. "We figured it was just some kind of excuse. He didn't seem to have any boyfriends either."

Danny's phone rang and he excused himself quickly. Livingston drained his glass and found himself wishing fervently that it was an emergency. Something that got them out of here.

"You know what they say," Rusty said, smiling sharply at Lawrence and sipping at his glass slowly. "It's the people who never talk about sex who are really having the wild lives."

Lawrence laughed scornfully. "Livingston? Wild? I'm surprised that he's discovered that you can do more than sleep in a bed."

He was blushing red and he was going to say _something _when Danny appeared at his elbow, smiling apologetically. "Livingston? Sorry, business call. Need a little advice. You mind?"

"Of course not," he said, hurriedly following Danny away.

"Thought you needed out of there," Danny said in a low voice. "Since I don't think you'd let us break your brothers' noses."

Another five minutes and he might have considered it. "Thank you," he said gratefully, and he looked back to where Rusty was standing with Lawrence and Leyland. "Rusty – "

" – he's fine," Danny said quickly. "We didn't want them following us."

He supposed that made sense. "Are you sure he'll be alright?"

Danny shot him an amused look. "Rusty can handle your brothers. And we're on our best behaviour."

Well, that was good.

"I don't see your grandparents here," Danny commented, scanning the room.

"No," Livingston agreed grabbing another glass from a handy passing waitress. "They're old enough that they can make an excuse and not have to suffer the guilt trip." He smiled. "I'm going down to their place tomorrow. I always spend Christmas with them."

"That's good," Danny said with a smile.

"Yeah," he nodded. "They're great to me. Mom and Dad divorced when I was two and Lawrence went with Dad and Leyland went with Mom and somehow I got sent to live with Grandma and Grandpa."

Danny frowned, looking over to the other end of the room where his parents were indisputably together. "Your parents divorced?"

He shrugged. "They remarried a few years later."

"Huh." Danny blinked. "That's weird." He glanced over towards Rusty, Lawrence and Leyland and his eyes widened. "Uh oh. Excuse me a moment."

Livingston looked after him but he couldn't see the impending disaster that Danny apparently could. He could guess though. And he was regretting making Rusty and Danny suffer through this. This was supposed to be his nightmare.

"Hello, Livingston," a woman's voice said dreamily, and he turned to see his cousin Louisa standing there, wearing a long dress that made her look something like a trout jumping up a waterfall.

Oh, hell. He really didn't like talking to Louisa. She'd been everywhere and claimed to know everything and all she ever seemed to want to talk about was sex.

"Hi Louisa," he said awkwardly, gulping down the glass in his hand, wishing that Rusty and Danny would come back to rescue him.

"I hear that you've found a boyfriend," Louisa went on, smiling encouragingly at him. "Congratulations. He is a very beautiful young man. Such a pity it won't last."

He could feel his mouth hanging open. "Wha...what?" he managed.

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that when you know people and relationships as well as I do things become a little obvious."

_What _became obvious? Because Livingston had to admit that right now, he was at a complete loss.

"You have to agree, he is very exotic, isn't he?" she went on calmly, looking over towards Rusty. "I've known you since you were a child, Livingston. Even you have to admit...you're not going to keep the attention of a man like that for long."

He knew what she was saying. She was saying he was boring. She was..."You mean I'm not good enough for him," he stated.

She smiled kindly at him. "Oh, it's not a question of not being _good _enough for him. But people are different. Some people are little brown sparrows and some people are bright golden humming birds. And do you really think that any humming bird is going to want to spend the rest of its life with a sparrow? Do you think either of them would be happy?"

"I'm not a sparrow," he protested ridiculously.

It fell on deaf ears. "I _think _he's on the rebound," she mused, looking over at Rusty again. "He's probably had some heartbreak and is looking for someone kind and quiet and safe...you fit the bill perfectly, dear."

"I'm not _safe,_" he protested, even more ridiculously.

"You should really end it before you get hurt," she warned darkly. "It'll be over before you know it. Do you honestly think you could ever excite a man like that?"

Livingston remembered warm nights, fingers curled together, bodies slick and close. Nights when the world had shrunk to a single moment of heatmovement_now._ He remembered Rusty's face, head flung back, eyes half-closed, lips parted.

"Yes," he said defiantly.

The smile turned vaguely pitying. "Oh, _dear._ Well, when it's over, you give me a call, Livingston. Maybe I can help you make some better choices next time around."

"Thank you," he said through gritted teeth and he watched her wander off.

Where did family get off thinking they had a right to talk about something personal? Just because her mother was Dad's older sister...it wasn't exactly a rational basis for understanding. And she knew _nothing_ about him and Rusty.

Except, of course, he and Rusty had _already _split up. More than two years ago now. But that hadn't been why. Right? Rusty hadn't found him boring. It had been a mutual decision. He bit his lip and tried to ignore the emerging uncertainty.

An instant later and Rusty and Danny had appeared, whisky in hand.

He took the glass that Rusty offered him gratefully. "We thought – " Rusty began.

" – something stronger," Danny nodded.

"Thanks." He took a gulp and felt it burn all the way down. He choked.

"Pace yourself," Rusty advised. The night's not nearly over yet."

"How do you drink this stuff?" he demanded, staring at his glass with deep misgiving. When he drank he mostly drank wine. Or if he had to drink spirits he didn't drink them _raw. _He drowned them in coca cola.

"Practice," they said in unison.

"Oh." He had a feeling he was going to be getting a lot of that tonight.

He took a more cautious sip and this time the warmth was a lot more pleasant.

* * *

Half an hour later and the warmth and tingling had spread pleasantly through his extremities. They were sitting down to dinner and he was having trouble restraining himself from demonstrating to Rusty _exactly _how kissable he was looking.

Mental note. The negative relationship between the amount of alcohol he drank and his inhibitions seemed much steeper than usual...maybe coca- cola had an inhibiting effect in itself? Or maybe the tuxedo was the variable here. Yes, that sounded about right; it was Rusty's fault. All Rusty's fault that he was having unfake thoughts about his completely fake boyfriend.

He decided to stick with water through dinner. At least for a while.

"You know," Danny commented in a low voice, watching Leyland and Lawrence carefully dance round a comparison of who had bought the better cars over the past two years. "This reminds me of a circus."

"And I'm the clown," Livingston remarked gloomily.

"You're not the guy wearing pink, purple and green stripey socks," Danny told him and Livingston narrowly resisted the urge to look under the table. "Anyway, I didn't mean that kind of circus."

"Spartacus?" Rusty raised an eyebrows.

"Gladiators," Danny nodded.

"You're suggesting my family is like a herd of lions?" Livingston asked.

There was a long and thoughtful silence.

"I don't think you mean herd," Rusty said eventually.

"More like the mano y mano stuff anyway," Danny explained. "Sparring."

"Everything is a competition," Livingston sighed. "Yes. They don't mean anything by it. It's just the way they are. It's all supposed to be encouraging. Mother and Father always pushed us to be the very best." And he'd opted out.

The starter suddenly arrived in a flurry of plates and waiters and Livingston found himself staring down at a nerfball wrapped in cabbage leaves on top of a small swamp.

"Wild game turine in a parcel of savoy cabbage leaves, served over an explosion of pak choi in the Paliana manner," the head waiter announced regally.

"What's a Paliana manner," Danny asked out of the corner of his mouth, his smile not matching his words at all.

"Remember that thing in Detroit with the traffic warden, the upside down umbrellas and the pineapple that wasn't a pineapple?" Rusty asked in an equally low voice.

Danny stared down at the starter in obvious disquiet. "_Oh._"

Livingston managed to hide his fit of giggling behind his hand.

Actually, the wild-game-whatever tasted pretty good. Certainly good enough to finish, and then there was something involving salmon and crab mousse and puff pastry and that was delicious too, and then the wine was being poured again and conversation was flowing.

Danny was talking to Livingston's father and Livingston could only hear snatches of the conversation. It seemed as if they were talking about work though. It seemed as if Livingston's father was running him down. Again.

"Yes, well, all these computers...it's a fad, really. It will never last. It's an upstart industry with too much to prove. Despite appearances there's nothing truly _complicated _there at all. No _art. _Anyone could do it."

With the ease of practice, Livingston ignored the hurt. Dad had been disappointed when he'd decided that he didn't want to go to med school, and more disappointed when he'd decided to switch majors from physics to computing science, and almost _apocalyptically _disappointed when he'd quit his steady, respectable job with no clear explanation as to what he was doing instead. Just because Livingston was having more fun than he'd ever had in his life didn't mean that his concerned parents weren't...well..._concerned. _

Danny didn't look over at him. Not once. And Livingston couldn't see his face but he could hear the controlled smile in Danny's voice. He could only hope that Dad wasn't so observant.

"Obviously you've never watched your son rewire and reprogram an entire database at three o'clock in the morning so that instead of sending the information to Hong Kong it prints it out in Delaware. Already translated into English."

Oh, yes. He resisted the urge to smile. That really had seemed pretty close to impossible. But Danny had asked him and he'd barely slept until he'd found a way.

There was a pause. "What agency did you say you worked for again?" Dad asked.

Not smiling got a whole lot easier, but before he could hear Danny's answer he was distracted by the sight of his mother patting Rusty's arm warmly.

"Really, Livingston has _excellent _taste, Rusty. You are a young man of superior breeding. It's only a pity we can't expect any grandchildren from you."

...He had nothing to say to that. There was nothing in his head that made that make even the slightest _hint _of sense, and his mind was awash with bewildered screaming.

"That's medically improbable, Professor Dell," Rusty said calmly. "Although it's not going to stop us from trying, right Livingston?"

He managed to make some sort of inarticulate choking noise as Mom swatted Rusty's arm playfully. "Oh, you are _wicked._"

His mother was flirting with his unboyfriend.

His father was listening to Danny talking earnestly with an unholy gleam in his eyes.

Lawrence and Leyland were glaring at each other in a way that suggested that _this _year might just be the year that they finally gave up and went for the whip-them-out-and-measure-them approach.

Further down the table Louisa was telling anyone who'd listen that Livingston's grandfather had had a forty-year-long affair with both the postman and the postman's wife as well and she knew this for a _fact._

Somehow his glass was full of wine and he drank it quickly.

This was shaping up to be one of the most embarrassing nights of his life.

And then Rusty turned and shot him an apologetic smile and Danny winked at him from across the table and it wasn't so bad.

It wasn't bad at all.

Dessert was an impossible castle of spun sugar, dark chocolate mousse, strawberries and raspberries, chocolate ganache, raspberry coulis and white chocolate sauce.

Livingston and Danny exchanged a long look, worry and apprehension on Livingston's side, amused resignation on Danny's.

Rusty paid them no mind. He just dug in his spoon and a second later his eyes were closed and his moans were soft and breathy and everyone in earshot was staring.

Oh, Livingston really thought he could live without seeing his mother looking at his supposed-boyfriend like that. There was something terribly wrong with this picture and instinctively he moved a little closer, pointedly moulding himself to Rusty's side.

Although, really, he was equally concerned about the fact that the noises Rusty made in the face of chocolate were almost _identical _to the noises Rusty made in the face of...actually, he probably shouldn't think about that too hard.

"Rus'," he said with quiet desperation when the noises and the staring had got just a little more than he could easily bear. This was not the impression he'd been intending to make.

Rusty's eyes flew open and he gave Livingston a look that was full of heat and warmth and somehow he didn't think that there were any lingering doubts about whether he and Rusty were sleeping together anymore. Well, none except in the real world.

Somehow his shirt collar had also gotten a little tight. Must be hot in here.

With one last look, Rusty went back to his dessert.

* * *

Later, and there had been brandy and cigars and Livingston had had to agree to the one to avoid the other, and this year, for the first time, somehow, Lawrence and Leyland hadn't had any comments about him not being man enough to drink it. Apparently taking a smart, funny, charming, intelligent, drop-dead-gorgeous man to a family gathering was the quickest way to get treated as a serious adult. If he'd known that he would have tried it _years _ago.

And, for once, for the first time that Livingston could _remember,_ the conversation after dinner hadn't been all about work. Oh, it had started off that way, but then Rusty and Danny had happened. He had no idea exactly how they'd done it – it had all been a little too fast to keep track of – but they'd just dropped in little comments here and there, and somehow they'd steered the conversation away, through local history, urban legends, antiques, classical music and movies. All topics that he knew enough about to contribute. Enough that he wasn't sitting there like a stuffed dummy or something anyway. Enough that he felt included. And then, somehow, Rusty had led the conversation to a particular movie they'd watched a few months back, and all eyes were on him as he explained that no, it wasn't just science fiction, if he wanted to (_needed to_) he could reposition any satellite in the world from any computer attached to a modem. For the first time in years his family was looking at him like he was something impressive and for a while he basked in the warmth.

Mostly he didn't like being in the spotlight. Occasionally it was just nice to know he wasn't actually invisible.

Dad hadn't opened his mouth from the first moment that the conversation turned away from work. He'd just sat there in silence. And he'd looked on with thoughtful approval while Livingston talked about the satellites but he hadn't said anything.

For the first time Livingston thought that maybe Dad didn't have anything outside of work and his children's accomplishments. He couldn't help but think that that was maybe, sort of, a little bit lonely.

The next time there had been a break in the conversation he'd taken the opportunity to look across at his father and brightly ask "So what's happening at work?" And the stories of medical advances and new surgical techniques might be interminable and impenetrable but Dad had smiled at him like an equal.

But that had been earlier. After dinner. Now there was music and dancing, and Danny had been – willingly – dragged away by a woman who Livingston _thought _was his cousin's husband's sister's best friend's lawyer. But he might have gotten that wrong. Actually, he was almost certain he'd gotten that wrong. At any rate she'd seemed very attractive and very enthusiastic and for a while her and Danny had been dancing together and there'd been a lot of smiling and a lot of laughing and a lot of knowing glances. They seemed to have disappeared now...not that Livingston thought they'd _disappeared _disappeared. Well. Probably. As he remembered, he and Rusty had once left a party for the sole purpose of...but it didn't seem quite like Danny. It was a crowded hall. More likely they were just dancing someplace out of sight.

That party had been on a boat, he remembered. They'd found themselves a lifeboat and snuck under the tarpaulin for one of the wildest and most nerve-wracking hours of his life. He'd been so terrified they'd get caught and the first time he'd been in such a hurry and then Rusty had smiled and stretched, cat-like and languorous, and suggested they should try again, slower this time.

They had. And then, despite all logic, despite everything his _head _was telling him, they'd tried again, just to be sure.

Oh, he shouldn't be thinking about this while he was dancing with Rusty. Especially not so close. But his family were watching and he wanted them convinced of this relationship. That he was fine and that they could stay out of his life.

"What are you thinking of?" Rusty asked him quietly.

Involuntarily Livingston's mind jumped back to the rustling of tarpaulin and the warmth of Rusty's mouth. "The...uh...the Su..Sutherlands job," he stated firmly. That was good. Because he was in a candlelit room at Christmas with soft music and Rusty's arms around him, so he should absolutely be thinking about work, not sex. Sex was proscribed.

The corners of Rusty's mouth twitched. "So romantic," he commented, as they twirled gravely round the hall.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he explained sheepishly. "If I think of my feet I'll fall over. And I'll take you with me."

Rusty pursed his lips. "That would not be good."

"Right," he nodded, thankful that Rusty took the point.

"So the Sutherlands thing?" Rusty pressed.

"Yeah. Well..." He struggled to gather his thoughts. He really had been thinking about this earlier. Just that he'd meant to save the conversation to another day. "Well, you know how you and Danny were saying about the shift change and the security tapes and you couldn't see a way in? I think I could give you a window in the surveillance. Not long."

"How long?" Rusty asked, completely focused, and he'd drank almost as much as Livingston had, he knew that, and how come it never seemed to affect him? Wasn't fair.

"Uh, thirty seconds maybe?" he said, pulling himself back to the real world. "Between the first shift and the second shift, if the tapes are looped right on the change, they wouldn't notice, long as it went back almost immediately."

"Huh. Could be enough," Rusty said, seemingly to himself.

Livingston nodded. It was good to have made a contribution. He laid his head down on Rusty's shoulder. "Your jacket is _really _soft," he told Rusty seriously.

"'s the first thing I look for in a jacket," Rusty told him lightly, pushing him back up gently and looking at him carefully. Oh. The music had come to an end at some point. He hadn't noticed. "You want me to go find you some coffee maybe?"

That could be a good idea. He nodded gratefully.

"Be back in a minute," Rusty promised and then he vanished.

Livingston sighed and walked over to the side of the hall, deliberately not making eye contact with anyone. Really, being drunk here and now was not a good idea. Mind you, being _sober _felt like it would probably be a little bit worse. Drunk _enough _was probably the object here.

He closed his eyes – only for a second – and he was suddenly jolted awake by the realisation that someone was standing over him.

"Where's that pretty boyfriend of yours?" Lawrence demanded in a loud, raucous voice, and for a moment Livingston was ridiculously glad that he wasn't the drunkest one here. Not by a long shot if the gin fumes were anything to go by.

"He went...uh, that is, he's gone to get me some coffee," he explained placatingly, and everyone around was staring. Just part of the entertainment, he guessed, and he offered a weak smile.

"_Coffee?" _Lawrence leered inexplicably. "That all part of the service?"

Baffled he shook his head. "I don't...what are you talking about?"

Lawrence laughed. "Well, you see, me and Leyland and Uncle Lewis and Patrick and old Marmaduke, we've been talking. And, you know, we look at you, we look at him...especially at him...and we've got to thinking. He's a pro, right?"

Oh, he was sober now. He was more than sober. Sober and staring. "_What?" _

There was an outbreak of shocked tittering around him. A small chorus of "Well, _really, _Lawrence."

It bounced off of Lawrence like bullets off Superman. "He's a hooker. Or a gigolo or whatever. Am I right or am I right? You just didn't want to go to Mom and Dad's thing on your own so you hired some escort to make you look good."

The shock and disbelief were fading to be replaced with deep, unreasoning rage. He was talking about Rusty. He was talking about...

"Now, now, don't get me wrong," Lawrence went on. "I'm sure he's a very _expensive _escort. Exclusive. I mean, he's not to my tastes, obviously, but you certainly got your money's worth tonight." He laughed. "Or at least I'm sure you will – "

A crunching sound and he was watching in horror as Lawrence's face crumpled in on itself and he didn't feel the pain in his knuckles until a few seconds afterwards.

"Sorry," he said automatically as Lawrence stumbled backwards, finally falling ungracefully to the floor, his hand pressed to his face, and blood was oozing between his fingers.

Everyone was staring at him. More and more people were pressing around them and he wanted to run and hide. He'd never hit _anyone _before.

"He hit me!" Lawrence exclaimed loudly, and Danny was at Livingston's arm an instant later.

"You okay?" Danny murmured urgently, and Livingston didn't know how to answer that.

The crowd was whispering, uncertain, and he felt like he was twelve years old again, in trouble for arguing with his brothers. Everyone always took Lawrence's side. He always managed to talk his way out of anything. But Lawrence had no _right _to say that! It made Livingston's blood boil just _thinking _about it.

"He hit me!" Lawrence said again, his voice more strident, growing in confidence. "He just up and hit me for no reason!"

"Livingston?" Danny's voice was questioning but not judging and he was looking at Lawrence now, a hint of a frown, like he was just waiting to hear what Lawrence had done. Danny was on his side, no questions asked, and Livingston was too relieved at that thought for a moment to realise why he should _really _be worried about Danny getting an answer.

"Well, you called his partner a hooker, Lawrence," Lydia said, sounding exasperated and holding out a hand to help her husband to his feet. "I'd hope if the circumstances were reversed _you'd _have hit _him."_

Somehow, Livingston had the presence of mind to grab Danny's arm. "No!" he pleaded in a hushed voice.

"But he _hit _me," Lawrence said again, standing up, only he sounded whiny now and he looked pathetic.

Danny's eyes were bright and his mouth was hard. "He – "

" – _please_," Livingston tried, and, miracle of miracles, Danny subsided.

"Sorry," Lawrence muttered, at Lydia's elbowed prompting, as he was led away.

Everyone was still staring at him. Maybe they were disappointed there'd been no real fight.

"Let's get out of here," Danny said with a sigh.

* * *

Somehow they made their way out onto a balcony that Livingston was almost certain wasn't actually normally accessible to guests. But it was quiet and hidden and it meant that Danny could drop the mask of friendly politeness and look at Livingston with that expression of tight anger.

"Your brother is a complete – "

" – I know," Livingston agreed hastily. "But he wasn't thinking about Rusty when he was saying that stuff you know. He was just looking to embarrass me."

"That doesn't make it better," Danny told him seriously and Livingston was almost certain that Danny was running through plans and consequences. With a grimace he thought of Larry O'Dell and Matthew Brigstock, and O'Brien long before that, and he remembered that some things Danny really didn't believe in letting go. Back to Rusty not saying no when a friend needed a favour. And it was noble and it was them and it was..._sweet_...but really, in this case, it was also just plain annoying.

"Leave it," he said firmly. "_Please_. Lawrence really, truly isn't worth it. 's just he can't imagine what someone like Rusty would be doing with someone like me."

"Well he's a moron," Danny said shortly.

Livingston hesitated. "Me and Rusty aren't actually dating."

Danny frowned at him. "But you were."

"Yeah...well..." He shrugged. "We broke up."

There was a pause and Danny was looking at him his eyes unreadable.

Somehow, Livingston felt compelled to explain. Neat trick, really. "And I come here and I've got Mom acting like I'm not attractive enough to get a guy like Rus', and Lawrence saying I have to...have to _pay_ and Cousin Louisa saying I'm boring and vanilla and Rus'll dump me soon enough, and I have to wonder..."

" – it's not a question of being boring," Louisa interrupted calmly from behind him. "It's a question of not being adventurous. It's no wonder that your boyfriend has his eyes on this young man instead. Oh, I have eyes."

"Livingston? Unadventurous?" Danny's laugh was short and absolutely incredulous and about as convincing as Livingston could hope for, and he half-turned to see Louisa's reaction, which was one of the many, _many _reasons why he was taken utterly aback by the feeling of Danny's lips pressing against his.

It was short. Soft. Chaste. Respectful. But it was also absolutely, unquestionably and unequivocably a kiss.

Louisa's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Actually, we're all _very _happy together. Any questions?" Danny asked brightly and she shook her head and scuttled away.

"She's going to tell everyone," Livingston said stupidly, and really, what he should be asking here was _what the hell just happened? _He pressed his hand against his lips and stared wildly at Danny.

"Yeah. Well." Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "I noticed at dinner, no one believes a word Louisa says," Danny said with a shrug. "I mean, if she said the sky was blue everyone would disagree out of habit. Your family's going to think she's making it up, but she's going to think twice about calling you unadventurous in future."

Oh.

Danny sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...I just wanted to make a point."

"No, it's okay," Livingston assured him. He supposed it had been...well, Louisa certainly wasn't going to be calling him _boring _anymore. Plenty of other things but not boring. Danny had wanted her to see that two attractive men were interested in him. And that was...completely crazy. Really and truly insane. "Only you," he said, shaking his head with a grin.

"Yeah," Danny said, smiling slightly. "Livingston, you shouldn't listen to what other people say about you. You got to decide what opinions matter to you. And you ask me, it shouldn't be Louisa's."

"It isn't," Livingston assured him.

"You honestly think you and Rusty split up because of _that?" _Danny demanded softly. "You honestly think that Rus' thinks of you like that?"

"No." He shook his head and he hadn't even hesitated. No, that hadn't been why they'd split up at all.

Everything his family thought about him was wrong. He hadn't been the person they remembered for a very long time. If he ever had.

He laughed a little and leaned back against the wall. "I swear, coming here makes me a little crazy. I guess that's family for you."

"Right," Danny nodded, making himself comfortable against the railings.

"I know that Rusty saw...whatever he saw in me. And just because it didn't last doesn't mean it meant what it doesn't mean." He was talking as much to himself as Danny, nodding intently with every word.

"Right," Danny said again, slightly more uncertainly this time.

He sighed, smiling and warm inside. "It's just that Rusty is the guy, you know? The one that everyone else gets compared to. The one who...just the most amazing times and the most _amazing _amazing sex, and if it can't be as good as that then what's the _point _you know?"

Danny blinked at him.

He smiled some more. "Rusty's amazing. And have you seen how good he looks in black tie?" He sighed happily. "Should be _illegal." _

"Right," Danny straightened up, shaking his head, clearing his throat, and glancing away. "Right. Think it's time to go back inside?"

* * *

When they got back inside the party seemed to be winding down. There was no sign of Mom or Dad, Leyland was dancing with his wife, or at least they were propping each other up, Lawrence was conspicuously absent and Livingston would be quite happy if he _never _saw him again. With the sort of coordination that always made him wonder, Rusty had been leaning against the wall a little further away from the door to the balcony, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slice of pie in the other. He gravely handed one to Livingston while still munching on the other.

"So, Lawrence had a little chat with his wife and then a little chat with your parents, and now he's been sent to his room for a nice lie down and an ice pack for his nose," Rusty began conversationally, laying his pie aside for a second. "And everyone's been at pains to tell me that he didn't mean it and he was drunk. And Louisa's told everyone under the sun that all three of us are having an affair, possibly with each other, possibly with Jeff Bridges."

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully. "Jeff Bridges?"

"Could be worse," Rusty said with a shrug. "Jeff Goldblum?"

Danny pursed his lips. "In – "

" – oh, in 'The Fly'," Rusty nodded. "Obviously."

"You're right," Danny said decidedly. "That would be worse."

Livingston tried to explain. "Lawrence said..." Actually he didn't want to explain that part. "He said something, so I had to hit him, and then we went outside, and Louisa was there and – "

" – it's fine," Rusty cut in, smiling.

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," Rusty said, and the smile hadn't wavered for an instant.

He supposed that Rusty would hear all about it later. "So what now?" he asked anxiously.

"You want to take the party upstairs?" Rusty asked, letting his jacket fall open just a little to reveal an unopened bottle of whisky.

"Sounds like a good idea," Danny said, grinning.

Livingston was still a little lightheaded. And it sounded like a wonderful, terrible idea.

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning and the whisky was gone and they'd been talking for hours and now he was trying to walk along the corridor, his bowtie clutched in one hand, his jacket in the other, trailing along on the ground behind him.

"See, you look like James Bond in this stuff," Livingston told Rusty seriously. "I look like Bertie Wooster."

"You'd need a top hat," Rusty said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should go find you one."

"Hey, where's your jacket?" he asked, suddenly noticing that it was nowhere to be seen.

"In Danny's bath," Rusty explained. "You spilt coca cola on it."

"Oh yeah..." He remembered that. Vaguely.

"You want to go get some ice cream?" Rusty suggested.

"Kitchen'll be closed," he pointed out doubtfully.

Rusty grinned. "Exactly."

He guessed that made sense.

* * *

Somehow, lying in bed with Rusty was a lot less awkward than he'd been imagining it would be. He had a feeling that was probably down to the alcohol, but right now he didn't much care.

They'd liberated a tub of double choc chip from the kitchen. It looked delicious. There was just one problem.

"Are you planning on sharing any of that?" he asked, watching Rusty lean back against the headboard, the ice cream clutched protectively to him.

"Mmmm," Rusty said, decidedly non committal.

Oh, that wasn't fair. "Whatever happened to equal shares?" he demanded, pouting just a little.

"That's for jobs," Rusty explained lazily, slowly sucking the chocolate off the spoon. "This is ice cream. 's much more important."

That still didn't seem fair.

He looked at Rusty for a long moment, spread out across the bed, laid-back and languorous and absolutely irresistible, and it was the kind of thought – impulse – that he _never _paid attention to. Oh, he might think about it, might even fantasise about it, but actually doing it? Hell, no.

Except he did tonight.

He looked from Rusty's arm, curved above his head, to the nightstand, and then, fast as thought, he grabbed the complimentary handcuffs from out of the drawer and fastened them round Rusty's wrist.

"Hey," Rusty protested mildly, a second later, his other hand reaching up to the cuffs.

With a smirk, Livingston pulled the loop of the cuffs round the headboard and snapped them round Rusty's other wrist.

"Huh," Rusty said in consternation, as Livingston calmly lifted the ice cream off his chest and started eating it.

"Mmm," he said happily. "This _is _good."

"I know," Rusty agreed sulkily, wriggling futilely against the cuffs. "I was going to give you some _eventually, _you know."

"Uh huh," Livingston smiled disbelievingly and then made a point of scooping his hand into the ice cream and sucking it off each finger, one by one, by one.

Rusty was staring at him, unblinking.

"You want some?" Livingston asked as casually as he could.

"Yeah," Rusty said, his voice low and Livingston wasn't so sure they were talking about the same thing.

He rolled across the bed and somehow ended up straddled across Rusty's hips. "Oops," he said with a nervous giggle, brushing the ice cream spoon lightly against Rusty's lips.

"You're going to get ice cream on my shirt," Rusty said, sounding slightly breathless. "'s white."

Livingston looked down into Rusty's eyes and suddenly things seemed a whole lot more simple. He licked his lips. "I could help you take it off?"

Rusty nodded, light dancing in his eyes. "Maybe you should help me take my pants off too."

Right. Just to be sure.

* * *

It was later and they were naked and despite Livingston's honest efforts Rusty's shirt was well and truly ruined.

Oh, it had been a while since he'd felt this relaxed. Right now, at this rate, he figured he'd stop smiling some time in the year 2000.

"You think you could uncuff me now?" Rusty asked sleepily.

Right! He should really have done that already. "I guess," he nodded. "Since we're done with the ice cream."

"One way or another," Rusty agreed.

He opened the drawer and stared down at empty space. Oh. Well. No need to panic. He tried the next drawer. Then he tried the floor around the night stand. Then he got desperate. "Rus'? Where were the keys?"

Rusty blinked like a man coming to a revelation just a little too late. "There weren't any," he said eventually.

That was enough to kill the smile. "_There weren't any?" _he squeaked, and Rusty was still handcuffed naked to his bed and that was suddenly less than fantastic. He tried to calm down. "Okay. Well. You can get out of handcuffs right? I've seen you get out of handcuffs."

Rusty grimaced. "Lockpicks are in my jacket pocket."

Livingston started looking round the room frantically.

"Jacket's in the bath in Danny's room," Rusty reminded him.

Oh. Oh, Jeez. Wait... "You took a set of lockpicks to my parents Christmas party?" he demanded, eyes narrowed. Exactly what had Rusty been planning here?

"Well, it's always better to..." Rusty paused then shrugged and rattled the cuffs pointedly. "Not exactly the point right now."

Right. Right, it wasn't. "I'll just call Danny," he suggested and he reached over for the phone, only to find that it was lying smashed against the wall.

"Your foot..." Rusty murmured. "When you were upside down that time and your hands were against the wall and your mouth was...mmm."

Oh. Oh, yes. He blushed and pulled on a shirt and some pants as quickly as he could. "Fine, I'll go get the picks from Danny," he said breathlessly over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Livingston!" Rusty called sharply but he didn't have time to turn and look.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised. "Just stay put." He grimaced. "Not that you really have much choice," he admitted quietly as the door closed behind him.

* * *

It seemed like Danny took an age to answer his frantic knocking. And when he finally did, even though his hair was sticking up at odd angles he was still looking remarkably unruffled. Livingston had to wonder how he did it. Being that naturally calm was unnatural.

Danny's eyes were sharp and concerned though. "What's happened?" he demanded, his gaze sliding past Livingston and down the corridor. "Where's Rusty?"

Livingston did try to resist, he really did. "He's a little tied up at the moment," he explained with a slight giggle. "I need the jacket out of your bath."

Danny's head tilted to one side. "Uh huh. You'd better come in."

"Thanks." Livingston hurried into the bathroom and retrieved the jacket and really, he didn't want to leave Rusty any longer than he had to.

"So," Danny began conversationally. "Having a good night? I only ask because Rusty's not here and you're wearing his pants and no shoes or socks."

He looked down at himself. Oh. "Oops." He bit his lip. "Our room came with complimentary handcuffs."

"Huh." Danny mulled that over for a moment. "I only got a bunch of towels."

"I don't think you're supposed to take those," Livingston said involuntarily.

"Right." Danny smiled. "Think I'm going to come back up to the room with you."

"Really?" Livingston winced.

"Oh, I think I pretty much have to," Danny smiled.

* * *

As it turned out, he really did have to; somehow, in his haste, Livingston had left the key behind.

He watched Danny pick the lock. "You know, this is shaping up to be one of the stranger nights of my life," he commented.

Danny didn't glance round. "Really? So far, doesn't make my top ten."

"Well, that doesn't exactly surprise me," Livingston muttered as Danny opened the door.

Rusty smiled brightly at them as the door opened, and he looked perfectly relaxed. If there was any embarrassment there it was well hidden. "What kept you?"

Danny looked amused. "You didn't want to check for the key before you started with this?"

"I just wanted some ice cream," Livingston explained from the doorway behind him.

Rusty shrugged which, in the circumstances, looked more than slightly strange. "I had other things on my mind."

"Uh huh." Danny grinned some more. "Think you had exactly _one _thing on your mind."

Rusty looked momentarily offended. "Actually I'm very good at multitasking."

"He is," Livingston agreed fervently.

A second later and the door to the room opposite was being opened and he spun on his heels in time to see his mother and father stepping out into the hallway and _staring._

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.

Without conscious thought he slammed the door shut, which was good in that it hid the naked handcuffed man from his parents, and _bad _because it left him out in the hallway with nothing to say.

"Oh my," Mom said slowly, her eyes still wide and for once in his life, Livingston thought he would prefer it if there was a little _less _understanding in her eyes.

He supposed looking on the bright side, there was _no way in the world _she was going to believe that Rusty wasn't actually his boyfriend now.

As bright sides went, that was about the equivalent to a single match in a black hole.

Dad was still staring blankly at the door. "Was...was that your friend from work in there?"

"Uh, yes..." He cleared his throat and, please god, let them not have heard whatever Louisa was saying. "We were...that is me and _Rusty _were..." He hesitated. "Danny had the handcuff keys!" he blurted out. "I just went to get them!"

"You borrowed Danny's handcuffs?" Dad's brow cleared momentarily, but he was still looking disapproving. "Livingston, those are official issue. They're not meant to be used for frivolous purposes."

Mom elbowed Dad sharply. "Oh, come on, Lionel. We were young once too. Remember Paris? Silk scarves and a blindfold and nine months later we had Lawrence."

Oh, God, he could have lived without knowing that. He could really, really have lived without knowing that.

He cleared his throat and decided to leap back to safer – if equally puzzling – ground. "Official issue?"

"Yes..." Dad looked uncertain for a moment, shaking his head as if to dislodge all recent events. "Livingston, it's come to my attention that I may have been making some assumptions about your work. We...that is _I_...am very sorry about that. I want you to know that I'm very proud of you."

He didn't understand this turn of events in the slightest. But that didn't mean he wasn't liking it. "Uh, thank you?"

"That thing Danny was talking about in Hong Kong," Dad said, his voice lowered. "Was that about the Chinese?"

He stared at Dad for a long moment and suddenly a lot of things fell into place. And, right now, he couldn't see a reason not to go with it. "That's classified," he said simply. "I can't talk about it."

A sound of the door opening behind him and Rusty and Danny were standing behind him and at least Rusty was fully dressed now.

"I have to..." He gestured behind him. "We have to work."

Dad swelled with visible pride and nodded at all three of them. "You're serving your country. You should be proud. I'm proud to know you."

"Thank you, sir," Danny said solemnly.

"Goodnight, Rusty," Mom said with a little wave. "You boys have fun now."

"Goodnight Professor Dell," Rusty said cheerfully. "We will."

Oh, it was most definitely time to call it a night.

And Rusty was sleeping on the sofa that was for sure.

* * *

23rd December

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a sober affair.

Livingston's head was killing him. It felt a little like the dancing animals from Fantasia were practicing inside his skull.

They'd stopped by the hotel restaurant and they'd looked through the door to see Lawrence sitting there with a pair of oversized sunglasses, Louisa looking decidedly sulky, and Mom and Dad arguing quietly with Leyland.

There had been nothing there that Livingston wanted to confront. In fact, he thought that he'd be quite happy if he didn't see any of them until next Christmas.

Instead, he, Rusty and Danny had made their way to a diner a few blocks away and he'd gulped at a bowl of black coffee and played with a piece of toast while he tried not to watch Rusty consume his weight in waffles. As long as he didn't think about punching Lawrence, or about telling Danny just how good Rusty was in bed, or about the handcuffs, this was _much _less embarrassing.

"You know, I distinctly said that we should all avoid being naked in front of my family," he said gloomily, once the coffee had gone.

"It wasn't exactly my fault," Rusty said mildly.

"Not _just_ your fault," Danny said, savouring his fourth espresso. "When I got there, it certainly looked like you'd been heavily involved."

"And my father thinks I'm a spy," he pointed out, turning on Danny. "And my cousin thinks I'm involved in a threesome. And my mother...I don't even _know _what my mother thinks." He laid his head down on the table with a thud.

Somewhere above his head they were exchanging a long look. "Livingston – " Rusty began.

" – we're sorry." Danny finished.

"We are," Rusty emphasised. "Really."

Danny sighed. "Things got – "

" – complicated," Rusty contributed.

"Very complicated," Danny clarified.

"Don't they always," he said, his voice muffled. He grinned weakly up at them. "Least they noticed me this year. And they're definitely not feeling sorry for me." Not in the slightest. He sat up straight. This time last year he'd been sitting at breakfast between Mom and Leyland, listening to Mom run through all the men she'd ever known who were gay, offering to set him up, while Leyland had talked loudly about business opportunities and the problems with freelancing. They'd been talking to him, but they hadn't been listening. And they'd certainly never _looked _at him.

He looked up at Rusty and Danny who were still regarding him anxiously. They were listening to him. And they were certainly _looking _at him.

"This is better," he said aloud. "This is so much better."

There was an audible sigh of relief. "So you want us to come to next year's party?" Rusty asked brightly.

He grinned. "I'll think about it."


End file.
